


a sky that grows more gold

by loveknives



Series: i twist like a sunflower at the sound of your voice [5]
Category: This Is Not Fiction (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Coffee Shops, I have a lot of feelings about things, LGBTQ Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 01:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveknives/pseuds/loveknives
Summary: Only ten minutes or so had passed since they pulled on their winter jackets and left the comfort of their room. Ten bitterly cold minutes that Julian spent in his own thoughts, brooding on what could go wrong on this outing. Perhaps it was simply his mood, but he could not find the spirit to think otherwise. Something like this was in its own field of potentially life-crushing disaster. Despite the fact that there had already been a plethora of assurances from his best friend that it would be fine, and that everyone would enjoy this visit.Julian stops mid-stride, blinking. Isaiah stops two after. A few feet before them begins the aged brick exterior of a cafe; in front of it, Landon.--Julian, Landon and Isaiah get coffee and get caught up with one another.





	a sky that grows more gold

**Author's Note:**

> (But you, against a sky that grows more gold, / are the unmaking of my routeless soul.  
> — Richard Georges, from “Eve in the Morning,” L'Éphémère Review (March/April 2018))
> 
> Hoo boy, coming off of a year long hiatus of fanfic writing for this! It's been biting at me for months, and I've finally sat down and knocked it out! Unbeta'd, as always, but I do hope this is a suitable return to TINF-fic writing. I've regained a lot of my love for this series as of late, so I hope to return to more reasonable additions! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented in the past year. You have truly been my inspiration to continue on writing, so that I could share my love of these characters with you all.

The snow is, perhaps, the worst part of winter.

Julian does not mind the cold—in fact, he enjoys it a great deal more than the burnt skin and sweat of heat. The cold enables him to wear the thick sweaters that he is so fond of hiding himself within, and it is much easier to warm up than cool down. A few blankets and the blond was as content as he could be. But the snow clings to him as he walks, leaving his pants weighed down and damp with each step. It’s going to melt into awkward, ugly clumps on the doormat of whatever door he passes through. If he could somehow get rid of it without resorting to heat, he would.

“This sucks,” Isaiah says, speaking to himself as much as Julian. The blond finds himself agreeing.

Only ten minutes or so had passed since they pulled on their winter jackets and left the comfort of their room. Ten bitterly cold minutes that Julian spent in his own thoughts, brooding on what could go wrong on this outing. Perhaps it was simply his mood, but he could not find the spirit to think otherwise. Something like _this_ was in its own field of potentially life-crushing disaster. Despite the fact that there had already been a plethora of assurances from his best friend that it would be fine, and that everyone would enjoy this visit.

Julian stops mid-stride, blinking. Isaiah stops two after. A few feet before them begins the aged brick exterior of a cafe; in front of it, Landon.

The arrangement of their meeting went something like this: Julian received a text from Landon, who in his annoyingly friendly manner wanted to hang out. The memory of a cold bed lingered around that, so the blond did his best to engage in the most platonic (not that their encounter _wasn’t_ , but it still left him confused for some reason) fashion possible. They sent texts back and forth—words from Julian and a slew of emojis thrown together with as many misspellings as humanly possible. How did he even manage to get those into his messages when his phone was made before their existence? He chalked it up to that strange, reality-altering magic that being a godfather brought.

Unfortunately, Julian wasn’t as deceptive as he thought himself to be. Apparently sitting hunched over in your bed with the blankets covering you was “noticeable,” according to Isaiah. The moment his best friend pulled off the covers was the moment he died, plain and simple, because exposing the fact that Landon was back in his life once more felt awful. Not because of the person involved, but because of the circumstances—and to be fair, it honestly was because of the redhead somewhat, and his reputation. Mischief seemed to follow him all around in high school, even if it’d been left behind in the pursuit of higher knowledge.

However, instead of the anger and disappointment that should have followed, Isaiah was neutral; supportive, even, though that was a word that carried a lot of implications. It meant he would actually have to like Landon, which seemed a stretch. Perhaps tolerating him. He’d even asked to come along to their “date” (at which Julian turned a shade of red never seen before on a human, voice dragged upward three octaves) to see him again. Maybe it was some subtle way to inspect whether or not the former godfather was good enough. It wasn’t in Julian to doubt any of his friends in the slightest, but this was...different. Another person that could deny their friendship in full and pull the blond away once again to safety. It couldn’t happen, not again.

The fact that Isaiah greets him with a smile and not anything else is a blessing. He even extends a hand out to shake, which is reciprocated. Pounds upon pounds of pressure lift from Julian’s chest, and he realizes they’ve gotten close enough for that. To touch. Shaking hands with the redhead feels like far too much of a formality for him, so he settles for awkwardly hanging around the edges of their trio until they’re heading inside. The blond kicks the snow and ice off of his pants with a certain amount of pleasure, trying to kick out the nerves all the same.

It’s cozy inside, though anything’s better than cutting through the snow. It smells like chai and coffee alike, overwhelming the scent of people that crowded within. Luckily, there are a few tables open, people opting to stand and wait rather than taking up the seating. One by the window, even, with four chairs placed around it with soft pink and blue cushions padding them. Julian immediately wants to claim it, though doesn’t move from where they’ve begun to stand in line.

Landon notices where he’s looking, though, and catches his attention as Julian turns back. It’s with a thoughtful hum and then a small smile that he speaks, voice low enough not to rouse anyone else’s attention—save for Isaiah, who looks over at them. “I can get your order for you if you want. It’s no big deal.”

Except that it is: it would be a bit of a hassle to pay on two different cards, if Landon even carried one over cash, and it would mean leaving the two to stand alone for a few moments. But that table looks so nice and fitting for them and it could also get taken any moment by the growing crowd. Then they’d have to stand or outright leave, both of which sound like awful alternatives. Julian breathes in once, twice, and then responds with what he hopes is normality: “Hot chocolate.” A safe choice for a day like this, without caffeine to hop him up even more.

Only when he sits down, sliding over one chair to leave space for someone beside him, does he he realize his error. Four chairs, two sides. One of his two friends would have to sit opposite him, or they’d both be forced together. The wood digs uncomfortably into his back now, and Julian tries his hardest not to turn over and look at them outright. He seems them speaking to the barista manning the cash register, not to each other. There’s a certain amount of space between them that’s just impersonal enough to stand out to the blond. No, they wouldn’t want to be next to each other. Besides, there’d be the awkward knocking of elbows and legs between both of them. So one of them next to Julian, the other across. Inadvertently, he’d forced them all into a choosing game. This was the exact opposite of what was meant to happen, this creation of a rift in their friendships.

His hands grip one another in his lap as they arrive a few moments later. Isaiah and Landon had lingered near the counter to gather up the drinks. At the very least, the mugs were cute, or would be if not for the reminder that they had to stay now, rather than walking back out with warm coffee and cocoa in hand. They’d be even better if they were the ones with tiny cat ears poking up on one side, curious faces painted onto them, but even so Julian likes them. He can see the neat, intricate designs of flowers on one side even better as his friends approach the table.

Holding his breath, Julian watches, accepting his mug thankfully—but still, watching. One of his legs bounces a bit, unable to keep itself still under the perceived tension. As if oblivious, Landon slides into the chair beside him, Isaiah across without so much as a blink in reaction. Grip on the mug growing tighter, Julian doesn’t know if he should feel relief or fear. Both, probably, though a small and rather hopeful part of himself tends towards the former. There had been no discussion, just… the two of them, sitting down.

The first few seconds are quiet, settling in and warming their insides up a bit more with good drinks. Though the whipped cream is a bit much, he finds himself actually able to savor the flavor once the worst of the heat fades. No marshmallows, a true tragedy, but all in all there were worse choices he could have made. His eyes wander up and catch Isaiah’s, whose face has passed into contentedness over his own sharp-smelling drink. Of course he’d like something that kept him awake and energetic, what with all he did. Julian’s envious of that kind of good-natured determination, wishes he could manage to find some of his own. As if sensing this internal turmoil, though, Isaiah speaks up. “Man, it has been forever since I’ve seen you,” towards Landon, who gives one of those faint smiles in response. “What have you been up to these days?”

From where Julian sits, he can see the way the redhead poses himself: leaning forward slightly, one spindly leg coming up and over the other. A hand supports his chin, and if it were anyone else the expression on his face might’ve been _flirtatious._ But chalking that up to habit, the blond doesn’t let his attention linger.

“Oh, you no. College classes, various detective workings, winning over short cat-lovers.” With a hand wrapped around Julian to boot, as if he was in on the joke, _and he most certainly was not._ Letting out a loud noise of protest, he shoos away the offending arm with a weak swat. It retreats, but slowly. The fingers drag against the shoulder nearest Landon before they fall back onto the table. He finds himself unable to discern whether he was imagining the hesitation or if his anxiety was making his perception function improperly. But without missing a beat, unlike Julian, the redhead continues onward, a bit more serious. “That’s about it, more or less. My life isn’t exactly the most exciting one, if you remember anything about it.”

Isaiah rolls his eyes, though he doesn’t seem put off in the slightest. Amused, maybe? Or already sick and tired of the way Landon jumped around with his words at times. He shifts forward too, though it’s just on his elbows, drink still secure in his grips. “College, huh? Odd that we’d all end up here, but I suppose it’s the best in the area. At least from what I know of. What exactly did you end up in? I went for physical therapy.”

For a moment, Landon doesn’t respond. Julian can’t quite place the look on his face, but it’s… unsettled? That’s the closest word he can think of. As quick as it comes it fades, though, replaced with pride of all things. “Culinary arts. You know, making a lot of the nice food you eat from the cafeteria. If it tastes good, it was me; putting more love into it than anyone else and all?” He rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand, the mug before him ignored in full. “But really, I work back there sometimes. Mostly cook for myself or for a lucky few like the princess here when he stays over.”

“It wasn’t THAT good, you know. I shouldn’t have ever told you that to begin with,” the blond butts in. Whether or not it was intentional, Landon just revealed something he’d kept fairly secret (that being a stretch, with how poor his sneaking skills went): the fact they’d hung out before to that extent. Would he talk about their impromptu sleepover, or how close their bodies were when waking up? It felt a breach of privacy, even if they were probably(?) totally normal details. Friends did that, were _friendly_ with one another. He doesn’t know why his face is suddenly redder than before. Julian thinks and after a moment decides it’s just more shame from the fact he kept a secret from Isaiah, and not dwelling on the memory itself. If it were that, surely his stomach would be in a tighter knot.

The other two were already on another topic, somehow, though the words are out of synch with Julian. He’s too caught up in his own mind, but he keeps his eyes flitting between the two. No squabbling at all, just the two chatting and even smiling at times. Enjoying their day out despite their rocky history. Other than one brief moment of unsureness, it seemed their butting of heads wasn’t going to rise up anytime soon. Maybe college really had managed to forge them all into more mature, able people. Julian doesn’t feel he’s there quite yet, set apart by something that leaves him a bit behind, but it’s nice to see his friends flourishing.

Their conversation carries on for a good long while to the point that the weather finally calms down. Torn between watching it and chiming in more with his friends, the drink Julian holds finally comes down to the bottom of the mug, and to his own surprise he realizes neither of his friends had touched their own for some time. Landon hadn’t bothered making progress on his, and Isaiah’s was finished off long ago. Being polite wasn’t what kept them there by any means. When he yawns, the spell that comes with eating out pops, and slowly they all gather themselves up once more to stand. Isaiah and Landon exchange a few more goodbyes, playful remarks back and forth, before the redhead sets his sights on Julian.

“Thank you for gracing me with your presence,” because he can _never_ take anything seriously, can he? “We should…” Landon’s voice trails off, eyes furtively looking towards Isaiah. Almost guilty? Julian lets out a tiny huff to gain his attention back, and the taller man presses onward. “Hang out again sometime, yeah? Come back here, or I can take you to any of the places I’ve mentioned. Both of you,” his final words are an afterthought tacked on, nod given to Isaiah. He hasn’t adjusted yet to having both of them to handle again, Julian assumes. “If you want to, that is. No pressure or anything?”

“Of course we will,” the blond replies, punctured with an eye roll. “You don’t have to be like that around us, you know we’ll show up whenever you ask, and by that I mean break my phone down until I finally reply—and _only_ because you won’t stop any other way.”

Landon raises an eyebrow. “Like that,” he repeats; his voice hasn’t changed, but it doesn’t feel like he’s playing along anymore. But it’s only a split-second, such a minute change that Julian really feels he imagined it. “I only do it because I love you, but knowing I have such an easy way  isn’t fun. I’ll have to figure out something better.” Reaching out, he runs a hand through the blond’s hair and ruffles it, before nodding yet again at Isaiah. “Be seeing you two.”

Isaiah and Julian trail out of the door a few moments after he does, jackets firmly secured. The latter cranes his neck backwards to watch Landon retreat away, brow furrowed at the way he hunches over slightly in the cold. Something to reprimand him about later.

After gathering his confidence for another moment, Julian hesitantly turns to look up at Isaiah. “So, what do you think…? Still the same old, isn’t he?”

Instead of speaking, he runs his thumbs over the edge of his pockets in response. “Yeah, I suppose he is,” comes after in another moment, hesitating. “I mean, I don’t think he really is, but he isn’t that different? It’s strange, I guess. The same but changed.” Though, he spares Julian a smile after saying that. “Sorry that I crashed the date, though.”

“Wasn’t a date, you know that!” An immediate reply, hands flying up slightly in protest. “He knew you were coming and even if you weren’t it would just be us hanging out!” In apology, Isaiah raises his own hands and gestures for them both to relax a tiny bit.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad you let me come along. It really was nice seeing him again and not around in school. Guess a few years really can make a difference.” With a small huff, Isaiah takes an exaggerated step forward into the snow. “C’mon, let’s make it back home before the snow starts up again.”

Julian obliges, picking up the pace. The silence that settles around the two of them is serene, even with the bustle of people trying the same as them to navigate. He doesn’t bother breaking it, and instead dwells on the little things from the day: the nervousness wrapped around him from head to toe, the weird little gestures and words he couldn’t place, and the odd sense of happiness he hadn’t been aware of until thinking about it. Isaiah was right; for all of the worry Julian did, the day was very pleasant, spent with the best company he could think of off the top of his head. When Landon got sorted into that category again, he really didn’t know, but it felt right placing him there. Even when he’d spent half the time saying the most awful (in an, unfortunately, humorous) way, it was fun to be around.

He finds himself looking forward to the next time as they round the corner before their dorms. A strange, almost overwhelming-feeling, but there regardless.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the characters and setting belong to tinfcomic.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to message me at loveknives.tumblr.com or @dreamwardens on twitter for more TINF related stuff! I love all of it.


End file.
